Farce

In the moments that I have nothing to say to you, I wonder how I'd express my emptiness. The pain of not reciprocating what you give me consumes me. All the times that I want to look at you with the passion you look at me with, all the times I want to touch your soul with the hunger you have in you. It's funny how the world laughs at the one who doesn't receive love in return for love, for everytime I look at myself against you, I find the irony funny. For I admire you much more than you can ever love me, I long for you much more than a mere mortal longs for salvation, but I can't love you even a bit in comparison to the vast sea of love you have within you for me. Even with all the admiration I have for you, all the restlessness you induce in me, all I feel is a body deprived of love, for love and affection can be synonyms, but never the same.

Everytime I contemplate about a relationship, the biggest concern I have, is a six letter word- belong. To many, to belong to someone means to be at his disposition, that he owns you. Further, some of them clearly object this thought. The propagators of self esteem, those who defy all odds and stand fast against the idea of being the object of disposal of someone's apparent 'right' over them. The others? The propagators of the ballad of selfless love. The ones that think that their loved ones have all sorts of rights over them. The ones that think love is about being owned. About being the most prized possession to somebody. The passion that reeks of the consuming fire of what they call love, and eyes that lurk amongst the dark of losing yourself in love and it's immeasurable depth. For the prior, an equation of individuals is what matters, whereas the latter prefer getting lost in the wilderness of love, forgetting all tools, man made, to measure, fathom and to gathe...

Close your eyes and imagine. If you were to die this minute, whose voice would you want to listen to? Who would you want to see, and who would you want to take your last breath around? Is it your teacher? You trust her with all the knowledge in the world, don't you? Is it your maid, who you so reluctantly hand over the keys to your home? Or is it the cab-service that you trust with all your travel? Almost all your relations in the world are based on contingencies. But someone you love? Not at all. You can love a person and want to be with them even without these contingencies. Betrayal, trust, looks, persona, any words you name, stand meaningless against one. Love. Talk about trust and having your family members get up to check if they have the television remote? Truly, you love people you trust. What aches is, that people don't understand that these contingencies are nothing but accessories, accessories that love doesn't know.